Differences
by Cybernetic Denim
Summary: Harry ponders the differences between he, his former love, and the love he had all along. Oneshot, Luna/Harry.


**Title:** Differences  
**Characters/Pairing: **HarryxLuna  
**Rating:** G, most likely  
**Summary: **Harry ponders the differences between he, his former love, and the love he had all along.  
**Author's Note: **After a many-months long period of only rping, I have finally managed to write fic again. Huzzah! This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction and I'm glad I was finally able to squeeze it out of my head. I've been a Harry/Luna shipper since book 5 and I think it's time I show my support. So, enjoy! :)

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Harry supposed it was natural the way things turned out, though if he had been asked ten years ago what he thought life would be like after defeating Voldemort, he would not have guessed that this is where he would be. Now, however, he could not imagine life any differently. Nor would he want to, save the return of the good lives lost during the turmoil of the war. But even now he had come to terms with those losses, the heart wrenching pain now a dull ache.

The sun was shining today, one of the first times its light had penetrated the dark, overhanging clouds to warm the Earth in a long time. Harry stood with his hands in his jeans pockets, eyes following a young woman not much younger than himself as she leaned down to closely inspect a flower, her nose a hairs' breadth from the light blue petals.

Even thinking about it now, it seemed strange that he had moved so naturally from the feisty redheaded girl he thought he had loved to Luna, but it just felt right. It had always sort of felt right, somewhere in the back of his mind, tugging at the smallest corner of his heart and asking to be let in. She had an innocent sort of understanding of life and its inner workings. Luna never truly seemed to grieve, accepting what life dishes out and trusting that the pain will pass and life will continue on, and that concept had been so foreign to Harry. When Sirius died, he was bitter and angry and hurt; yet she had coped with her mother's death by simply believing that her mother was happy wherever she was and that one day, Luna would be there with her, happy together. And even if that did not make Harry's pain leave, it had somehow managed to bring the barest of smiles to his face.

"This one is perfect," she announced in a soft voice, a smile lifting her lips as she plucked it gently from the ground and added it to the others she had picked along the way. She righted herself and looked at Harry, her smile growing slightly.

Her smile had been another of her qualities that had drawn his attention. Yes, it was a nice smile, always genuine, but that was not the entire reason. It was that she had found it in her to smile even during the darkest of days. With danger looming around each corner, death waiting down any street or through any doorway, the uncertainty of seeing tomorrow, most people would shudder in fear and hide. Luna, however, could still be found finding some kind of good to keep her going.

Perhaps that was what had put him off for so long, made it take so many years to realize how he felt about her, or to even understand that she had grown up as he had: the smile she wore made her seem child-like, innocent, pure. So it surprised him when she would declare that she was ready to fight alongside everyone else, put her life in danger, die for the cause. A sweet smile on the face of someone so ready to face death was almost unnerving. But, as he had learned early on and yet was still somehow surprised by this time and time again, that was just how Luna was: perhaps a bit awkward to be around, but caring; blunt, and certainly not as innocent as perceived.

After years of thinking, he had determined that there were many reasons he connected with Luna. She was so much like him, but so opposite as well. They had both been dealt their own hand of pain and sorrow, and while Harry would brood and get angry, she could find it in her to smile again. He so often tried to see the logic in situations, and she accepted whatever came her way without question. Even in her flightiness, she was his rock, bringing him back to reality when he got too caught up in himself and his pain. He never thought he could tell her exactly how much he appreciated her, though he tried to show her every day.

She came back to stand beside him, pulling his hand from his pocket and lacing her fingers through his. Her face tilted up and she smiled at him, then led the way through the field, the grass warm beneath their toes. Her idea, of course. Why wear shoes when the sun has chosen to give them such a nice day? Why indeed.

"You should do it," she encouraged in her lilting tone, pressing the knuckles of the hand with the flowers gently against his arm. "It wouldn't mean the same coming from me."

Harry returned her smile and, taking his other hand from his pocket, accepted the little makeshift bouquet of flowers from her. It didn't take long before they'd reached the little grouping of headstones they'd come here for, and a familiar tightness gripped his chest, squeezing his heart. Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Sirius Black. James and Lily Potter. Not every grave they would visit, not by a long shot. But here was his family, some of the people who had cared the absolute most for him. Pressing his lips together and trying to remain composed, he knelt down and scattered the flowers over the graves, then stood up and rejoined Luna.

"Mom," he said softly, his voice breaking. "Dad." He placed his hand over Luna's growing stomach. "You'll be grandparents soon." He smiled softly, a tear sliding down his cheek as Luna leaned against him and he kissed the top of her head.


End file.
